


whatever i am you made me

by Elhanore



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:02:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elhanore/pseuds/Elhanore
Summary: as i try to capture v and rikas extremely unhealthy relationship ending, everything suddenly becomes very pretentious.





	whatever i am you made me

Thousands of clicking heels and soft, run down soles hit asphalt at a thousand different paces, a thousand miles away. Waves only barely audible as they butterfly-kissed the cobbled shore. Neon lights and bright eyes hid amongst the polluted river water, blinking in and out of existence as they so pleased. Sometimes, stars would mingle amongst them, celestial bodies amongst human bodies, artificial bodies, old bodies, new bodies, nobodies. There was so much life floating around. The lights in the trees, the cold breath fogging up the air, the closing shops and the dewy grass around freshly dug graves. The entire world seemed to be tugging him along. Offering him escape, glowing chain-store logos transformed into blinking green exit signs. His own shoes, a set of old clacking heels, slowed to a stop by an overlooked riverside bench. Only nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine shoes continuing along the street. 

A blonde head whirred in between brunets and redheads, girls with silky smooth hair that shone like starlight, and boys with hair like taxi-tires. Old women with clouds on their heads, hand firmly pressed in their equally foggy companions, floating along the human river. Brand new ballerina soles tip-toeing their way around stomping feet and absent-minded strolls. Brilliant green eyes scanning the crowd, calculating and observing. Watching, unblinking. Water-proof mascara crumbling along spindly lashes, painting charcoal outlines of eyes wide-open. A knee connects with an ageing businessman’s briefcase. There is no pain on either side, the blonde-topped ballerina shoes don’t stop for more than a second. Until they do. And they remain standing by an overlooked riverside bench for longer than they ever ran. Only nine-hundred-and-ninety-eight shoes rumbling down the street.

Teal, watery blue eyes move by command of her perfume. Compelled by a force they don’t dare name, and met with hellfire. Copper sulphide flames raging behind plucked brows. A set of well-worn heels click against the new asphalt as he rises from the bench, his limbs light as cotton-candy. Though no steps are taken. A breath-takingly manicured claw reaches out and grabs his lapel, dragging him down to her level, dragging him so far down he can’t see the stars anymore. Her features contort and twist and morph until they are unrecognisable, a beacon of hurt and betrayal shining so hot, his mouth dries up. Breath comes slowly, jaggedly, passing through the gaping holes in his lungs, holes in his heart that were all occupied by her. She illuminated his every shadow, smoothened every crease. She turned on the light that got him up in the mornings, she was every face of every person he had ever loved, her kindness was as bountiful as her beauty. She was so much more alive than he could ever hope to be. 

There was something angelic in the way his name stumbled out of her mouth, something more pure than childish innocence. He could not meet her gaze, yet he could not bear to look anywhere else when she was so close. Her lips moved slowly, every vowel, every consonant enunciated with velvety malice. The words were short and harsh, and he couldn’t help but think they belonged in a book with works by Frost and Yeats and Dickinson and Eliot and Keats. Their meaning expanded and evolved in his mind, leaving so much room for wonder. He could feel his mouth moving, repeating her words in a state somewhere between disbelief and complete enthrallment. Her dainty hand removed itself from his jacket. He swayed without her support. It dug into her coat pocket. He had bought her that coat last Christmas, tailored and custom embroidered all on his pay. His tired mind registered something akin to a pang of panic. An animalistic instinct telling him to run away while his feet could still carry him, while his head could still guide him. Yet, he had been waiting for this confrontation for weeks. Hours and days of not seeing her, of not knowing her. 

He blinked and never opened his eyes again. 

A gush of hot fire burned away his skin, burned away his eyelashes, his eyes were on fire. They could not open, or perhaps they already were open. He could not tell, there was only white-hot pain, the rays of a sun way to close, the embers of a fire searing of eyebrows. The world shook, side to side, rotated, left him unable to stand upright and yet he did not scream. Could not dare to move, sense, breathe or be anymore. Only as the soft sound of new ballerina shoes tip-toeing their way back the way they came, the sound of a sun leaving its galaxy, only then could he gather himself enough to scream. Scream as the sun left his world to swim in the polluted river water butterfly-kissing the cobbled shore. Rays blinking over the waves, hisses of steam rising like the train they had taken together on their first vacation. Water lapped against the shore, bearing the last traces of the most beautiful thing he had ever known. Gone sour in the polluted water. And he screamed until his vision went black, and he knew the river had extinguished a star.

**Author's Note:**

> this started as an exercise and i gradually got taken over by the idea. im sorry if i butchered anyones character, and i am well aware that this isnt exactly how it happens. but hey, creative freedom ;))


End file.
